


don't you dare forget the sun, love

by romanreigning



Series: there will be better days [4]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and roman has a lot of self depreciating thoughts, dean and roman are friends (?), etc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanreigning/pseuds/romanreigning
Summary: roman has a bad day and he doesn't really know why. his friend dean tries to help out.





	don't you dare forget the sun, love

**Author's Note:**

> this is a lil dumb but it's the first thing i've finished in like, months so.. here. hope you enjoy it <3

Afternoon sunlight streams in through the small break in Roman’s curtains. He’s still in bed, curled up around himself and trying to ignore the way his heart fills with dread when the room to his door opens.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,”  his friend Dean says, laughing, but Roman can hear how forced it is.

This doesn’t happen often, but it happens too much for Roman’s liking. Some days he can’t get out of bed, doesn’t want to, and today is one of them, and Roman feels horrible about it, feels himself spiraling into an even worse mood.

“Hey, c'mon bud, it’s three in the afternoon,” Dean says softly, and Roman can feel his friend hovering above him. When Roman doesn’t respond,  Dean continues. “Late night?”

“No.” And he hadn’t, he’d gone to bed at a reasonable time, but …

He feels horrible. He feels so shitty. And there’s no reason for him to feel like this. He just  _does_ and he hates it and Dean is just trying to help him, and all he wants to do is pull the covers tighter and ignore everything, pretend that he doesn’t exist for a day.

“Okay, well,” he seems to search for words, “You’re just lucky it’s the weekend then.  You gonna be up before it’s bedtime?” Dean jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but all Roman does is hum quietly in response, unconsciously holding his breath. He just wants to be alone.

Uncomfortable silence stretches between them. Roman thinks he hears Dean sigh before a soft hand pats his shoulder twice, and footsteps move away from him.

“I’ll be in the lounge, if you need anything,” Dean says softly, and then quietly closes the door behind him. Roman shrinks even further into the mattress, wishing it would just swallow him up, and everyone could forget about him.

Dean sounded  _resentful_. He sounded like all of Roman’s school friends used to every day that he turned up and didn’t talk, mumbled over his words and never made eye contact. The voice of someone who’s done trying, of someone who’s tired of his bullshit.

_I knew it would happen_  he thinks to himself, lip trembling.

Dean is tired of him. After all this time of comforting Roman on his bad nights and talking enough for the both of them through all the bad days, Dean is finally done trying to fix him. Finally done checking up on him, pretending he doesn’t pity Roman for being unable to get out of bed some days, for taking showers at three in the morning because he feels bad and everything else inbetween.

It’s a heavy weight to bare. Roman knew he shouldn’t’ve expected Dean to be able to do it.

But he had just been hoping that it could’ve been different, this time around.

His stomach rumbles. He doesn’t want to move, so, he doesn’t.  _Don’t deserve Dean_ his thoughts provide, and he doesn’t disagree.  _Don’t deserve to eat or feel good today._

But at the same time, he feels his heart screaming for Dean to kick in the door and yell at him for being like this, for being dumb and selfish, ‘cause he deserves to be yelled at. He deserves Dean’s frustrations, hell, having someone  _else_ be frustrated in him would be a relief. It’s been so long since someone has.

He pulls the covers tighter over himself like it could block out the world, willing himself to be silent as the tears come, just gentle streaks down his face, though inside it’s anything but gentle.

A few minutes later, maybe an hour, he can’t tell, the door opens slowly again, and there are no footsteps so Dean must just be peering in his head.

“Hey, Roman . . ?” he says.

“Yeah?”

“I just found some of those butter chicken pies that you like,” Dean says, and Roman feels his chest tighten. He had looked in the freezer last night, they didn’t have any. Dean had gone and bought some. “D'you want one?”

Roman feels his throat tighten in panic. No, no no no, he doesn’t deserve to eat, but Dean went and bought them for him and if he says no he’ll just make him feel bad and he doesn’t-

“Roman?”

Roman jumps, Dean’s voice now a whole lot closer than it had been before, and his lip trembles before he can stop it, and no words come out.

The bed dips, Dean’s weight passing over him, and suddenly Dean’s there, in front of him, face concerned as he makes eye contact and it breaks Roman’s heart.  _This is my fault._

“Rome?” Dean asks again.

“Go away,” he says quietly, averting gaze. He doesn’t know what else to say, just wishes that this could be one of those times that he isolates himself and then apologises for it later and then everything would go back to normal. But Dean doesn’t move.

“Roman, what’s wrong? Did something happen last night?” there’s something sharper than worry in his voice when he says that, and the implication behind the words makes Roman’s heart stop for a second

“No, nothing happened,” he chokes out quickly, hating himself for making Dean think about that.

“Is it just a bad day?” he asks next. Roman swallows back some tears and nods, unable to bring himself to do anything else. Dean is too close to him, he’s asking too many questions and he shouldn’t be concerned about him, Roman doesn’t  _deserve_ it-

“Is that why you aren’t eating?”

There’s silence, and then Roman caves and sits up, pushing the blankets off him and trying to get up, to get away-

“Hey, Roman,” Dean pulls him back by the wrist, holding tight. “You can talk to me.” Roman stays silent, not knowing where to start. It takes Dean wrapping his arms around him for Roman to be able to form the words.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters out, fighting a fresh wave of tears, wanting to push Dean away from him. “Why don’t you hate me? Why are you still here?”

Dean looks confused, which makes Roman feel even worse. “What do you mean?”

“Y-you should hate me,” Roman says, but he’s losing steam. “’M always like this. ’M always feeling bad even though you try to help me.”

“I don’t expect you to just magically get better 'cause I want you to, Rome. I know this shit ain’t a straight path, hell, pretty much nothing is. And I  _want_ to help you, ok-”

“You sounded so resentful when you left, I’m so sorry, I was freaking out,” Roman blurts out, feeling so  _bad_ about it.

“I wasn’t resentful,  I was mad at myself for not knowing what to do. You were sad and I couldn’t think of anything to cheer you up.”

“But-”

“I know how hard it is for you, man. I know you’ve had lots of people give up on you before. You don’t even have to tell me that. But you  _are_ a good person and you  _do_ deserve good things.”

Roman’s too overwhelmed by his words to say anything in return, thinking about how he feels like anything  _but_ those things right now.

“Leaving you has never crossed my mind. Not once,” Dean admits softly, but there’s no hesitation in his voice, and Roman feels tears coming again.

“N-not once?”

“Not once. You’re my brother, man. We’re together good and bad, no matter how often either of those is. I’ve had my share fair of shitty friends too, and listen, you’re not one of them,” Dean pulls back, and Roman is worried for a second, before Dean has his face in his hands and is wiping away the fresh tears with his thumbs. Roman’s face heats at the intimate action, still feeling overwhelmed, but he never breaks eye contact with Dean.

“They were manipulative and always wanted to try and get something from me, always had another motive other than friendship. You worry about me more than you worry about yourself. I bet the reason you were so hard on yourself today is 'cause you thought you were making me feel bad?”

“I made you worried. I didn’t want to. But I didn’t know what to do, I-” Roman admits, but Dean cuts him off.

“It’s ok, Rome. I’d rather be worried about you than not know how you’re feeling, ok? You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“But you can’t constantly worry about me. You can’t always come running to me like this,” Roman says, pulling his face out of Dean’s hands, but they just make their way to his shoulders instead, like they belong there.

“You’re wrong, I always will,” Dean says. “I’d run to the end of the earth for you. Granted I don’t really know what I’m doing half the time either, but I’ll always try to help you, no matter what. 'Cause you deserve it, and you’d do the exact same thing for me.”

Roman takes in Dean’s words, and then he feels his lip trembling all over, not sure what to say or do with a confession like that, especially when he still thinks he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve Dean.

“Hey, c’mere,” his friend pulls him into another embrace, and Roman doesn’t fight it, his head resting on Dean’s shoulder.

“We’re both learning, ok?” Dean says into the mess of his hair. “You’re gonna feel bad some days and I’m gonna feel bad some days and we’ll both feel bad that the other feels bad, and we’ll miscommunicate and won’t know what to do and feel like we’re screwing everything up, but we’re learning,” Dean says softly, and Roman takes in a breath. When Dean puts it like that, it doesn’t feel so complicated anymore.

“It isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but at least we’re sharing the same umbrella. There’s no one else I would rather,’ Dean says, and then gently kisses the top of Roman’s head. 

"You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. You always know what to say,” Roman admits softly into Dean’s chest, the sound of his heart calming, and he takes in a breath, and feels himself feel better as the air leaves his lungs.

“I do?” Dean laughs, but it doesn’t sound self-depreciating.

“Yeah, you do. Thank you so much … I love you,” Roman mutters quietly, face heating all over again. It’s the first time that either of them have said it, even though they’ve been friends for years.

“I love you too,” Dean says without hesitation as he pulls away, and holds Roman in front of him again, a warm, lazy smile on his face that Roman can’t help but mirror, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

He wants to say something else, but then Dean starts leaning in, and the butterflies turn into a sharp stab of  _oh my fucking god_ as his friend’s lips press softly to his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, and Roman swears his heart stops for a second.

Dean is grinning smugly as he leans back, looking at the look he caused on Roman’s face.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, patting Roman’s shoulder. “Come on, I’m gonna make you that pie.”

He takes one of Roman’s hands and, not being able to speak, but for much, much better reasons, Roman follows.


End file.
